


fuck you better

by isostatic



Series: flip zimmerman one shots [2]
Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Dominance, Edgeplay, F/M, I woul say shameless smut but I actually feel ashamed at how dirty this is, Implied/Referenced Cheating, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isostatic/pseuds/isostatic
Summary: When Flip calls you up for a little late-night fun, he’s surprised to find out you’re seeing someone else. He’s determined to prove he’s the only man who can fuck you just like you deserve, if you let him, that is.
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Series: flip zimmerman one shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795702
Comments: 12
Kudos: 89





	fuck you better

**Author's Note:**

> coronavirus cannot and will not stop me thinking, reading and writing about flip zimmerman, so here's another dominant flip one shot to satisfy all your needs. want to stress that i in no way condone cheating but something about flip coming over and asserting that he's the only man for you really does it for me. enjoy!

His body is reclined back in his seat, feet up on the desk, worn boots resting atop his paper work. The bullpen is empty except for him, the other men succumbing to the call of their homes hours ago. To their fresh cooked dinners, doting wives and loving children who would be no doubt waiting for them. For Flip Zimmerman, there is no such call. Though it hardly bothers him. He laments in the freedom it offers, credits his success as a detective to his chosen solitude. Though there do come the long, lonely nights where he yearns for something more.

And it’s that thought that has him keying your number into the phone at his desk. He knows it off by heart by now. He winds his finger around the phone cord absent-mindedly as he waits. The dial tone seems to drone on forever, stretch through time until he’s sure he won’t hear your sweet voice on the other end. He eyes the clock on the wall, notes that the hands have ticked just past one. That was a late one, even for him. Maybe you were asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d caught you mid-slumber. He was the only one who could rouse you from sleep and have you wide awake in seconds. He had a talent for that.

He remembered something or other about you being frustrated at him the last time he called, but passed it off as nothing serious. You were always annoyed at him for one thing or another, whether it was calling too late or not at all, he could guarantee you’d have something to say. He was sure you liked the theatrics of it all; the playing hard to get, even if it did always end with you giving in, letting him have his way with you. And he had to hand it to you, he enjoyed it too. He loved the chase, feeling as if he had to win you over every time. It kept him on his toes, and he liked that about you. Though tonight, he got the feeling he wouldn’t be winning anything.

The dial tone stops.

The plastic of the phone is cool as you press it to your ear, knowing exactly who it is before they’ve even spoken. He was the only person who ever dared to call this late, the only person you knew who seemed to come alive once the sun had disappeared behind the horizon.

“You know, for a second there, I thought you were ignoring me.” He smiles, the smugness tangible in his tone.

Despite your promise to yourself that you wouldn’t entertain this man again, you can’t help that the sound of his voice perks something up inside you. Makes you want to grin before you can stop it. You hadn’t heard his voice in weeks, and though you hated to admit it, you’d missed it.

“I was, until I realised you’d just call again if I didn’t pick up.” You answer sharply, making your annoyance clear.

“Mmm, you know me so well.” He chuckles once. “You wearing that little pink nightgown for me again, the one with the bows?”

You clench your jaw, fold your arms across your chest as you stand, as if he might see you through the phone. Clearly, he knew you pretty well too. From your silence he can tell that he’s right, and he tries to picture you there in it, the satin fabric against your smooth skin, falling so effortlessly over your curves. He starts to grow excited at the thought of what you might be wearing underneath, if anything at all.

“I thought I told you not to call me again.” You answer blankly.

“That was before I came over and changed your mind.” His voice is smooth, his lips formed into a smile as he recalls his visit.

You bite down on your lip at the memory of that night. You were sure it was going to be the final straw. That you’d tell him not to call you and that you’d mean it that time. But he’d worked his magic on you yet again, charmed you into his way of thinking, until you were too worked up to even remember why you were mad. Before you knew it, he was at your door, stripping you of your clothes and fucking your shape into your mattress just like always. Only the morning after, when the scent of his aftershave was all but gone from your sheets did you chastise yourself, promise you wouldn’t let it happen again. That was almost two months ago now, and the only reason you’d done so well so far was because of his neglect to call at all.

“Anyway, it’s been a while… I thought you might miss me.”

You roll your eyes. “I thought I was finally rid of you.”

It’s only a half-lie. You really had come to see the benefits of his absence eventually, but those first few weeks without him had driven you crazy. You wondered if you’d finally pushed him too far, teased too much, played a little _too_ hard to get. You’d even thought about calling _him_ a few nights, but you were smart enough to learn from your mistakes.

Only once had you dared to call him at the station. Work had been long, frustrating, and you’d thought you’d treat yourself. One glass of wine had turned into two, then three, and before you knew it you were twirling your finger around the phone cord, burning up at the thought of him on the other end. You hadn’t even waited to hear his voice before you’d started talking, telling him how much you wanted him, how much you _needed_ him, all the dirty things you’d do when his shift was over. It wasn’t until you were interrupted by an amused yet unfamiliar voice that you realised you’d been patched through to the main line for the CSPD, rather than your favourite detective. You were sure the whole station must have heard that story from the way Flip was laughing when he’d showed up at your door, quelling your mood if only for a moment. Needless to say, the memory was enough to keep you from calling again. That and your dignity. Besides, it helped that you’d had your mind on other things for the past month.

“Ouch,” Flip retorts, “playing tough, are we?”

“I’m not playing any of your games tonight.” You snap.

“I’ve heard that one before,” he dismisses with an amused huff. “Why don’t we just skip to the part where you’re on your knees for me, hm?”

You always knew the constant teasing between the two of you would come back to bite you in the ass, but something about his comment stirs you from mild annoyance to genuine frustration. If he wasn’t taking you seriously now, you knew what would change that. You’d hoped it wouldn’t come to a point where you’d have to admit it, hoped that your own words would be enough for him, but you weren’t afraid to tell the truth.

“I’m serious Flip. I’m with somebody else now.”

The line goes silent. He pulls his feet off the desk, sits bone straight in his chair, body rigid with shock. Only now does it occur to him how arrogant he must have been this whole time. To assume you’d be free for whenever he felt the need, that he was entitled to you and no one else. He’d had other flings with women, other night-time callers he counted on before you, but he’d always grown bored of them before too long. You’d been the only one to hold his attention, the only one he couldn’t stop coming back to. Now that would have to change. His mouth goes dry with the realisation, unsure of what to say. You knew that now would be as good a time as any to hang up the phone, but something in your gut wants to hear what he has to say, if anything.

“How long?” Is all he can ask.

You know you don’t owe him any details; you didn’t even owe him the admittance in the first place, but you can’t help yourself from answering. The silence had been satisfying enough, but you wanted to push him further, wanted him to feel the pang of jealousy deep in his chest. Wanted him to be the one wondering why he wasn’t enough.

“About a month now.”

He clenches his fist on the other end of the line, has to hold himself back from slamming it against the desk. He’d never let you know it, but it wasn’t by choice he hadn’t called the past weeks. He’d been caught up in an investigation, had the case consume every moment of his time for the past months. It had only closed yesterday, nothing left but paperwork to complete, and he’d called you the first chance he’d got. He’d thought about you often while working the case, let his mind wonder to what you might have thought of his absence. It occurred to him now you probably hadn’t thought about it at all.

“And you like him?” His voice is quiet, stripped of all its previous bravado.

“Yeah, I do. He went to college, has a good job, real nice, isn’t afraid to be seen with me during daylight hours… you know, that sort of thing.” You boast.

Flip stays quiet, turns those details over in his mind. He already has a picture of the guy in his mind. Imagines him clean cut, kind, a real hit with your family most likely. Everything he isn’t. He’d just about made it through high school, hadn’t seen himself clean-shaven since he was 19 and had only ever met girl’s families if he got caught leaving their bedroom in the middle of the night. It’s almost as if you’ve chosen those details specifically to target him, to show off your new man like a prized pony.

But there’s something he can’t get out of his mind as he turns the description over in his head. He _knew_ you; he knew what you liked, what got you all riled up. Whether or not you would admit it, it was Flip’s arrogance that you were most attracted to. You knew he was an asshole, but part of you loved him for it. And maybe he’s reaching at this point, clutching at straws, but he couldn’t see you with a man like you’d described. A Nice Guy who’d ask how high if you told him to jump. That thought snowballs in his mind, grows larger and larger until his unable to stop himself from asking:

“And does he satisfy you?”

You scoff at his question, the sheer audacity of it almost causing you to laugh. You should have hung up when you had the chance.

“ _Excuse me_?!” You burst. “You’re not _seriously_ asking me that, are you?!”

He can feel the first tug of a smile on his lips. He knows he’s pushing his luck, but it’s working. You wouldn’t have been annoyed if the answer was yes, you’d have simply answered and that would have been that. But your sheer avoidance of the accusation all together makes him wonder what it is you’re trying to hide.

“It’s not a difficult question.” His voice is low, methodical, the type of tone that makes your heart beat a little faster in your chest. “I just want to know if he makes you come, that’s all.”

You cross your legs as you stand, wishing your body would get the memo that you didn’t want to be reeled in by his charm once more. Wishing you couldn’t feel your breaths start to pick up, wishing your mind wouldn’t wander back to those nights when he had fucked you, given your body everything you wanted and more. You’re so focused on trying to remain calm you almost forget to try and worm your way out of answering. You gulp and try your hardest to keep your voice as firm as possible when you speak.

“You’re not the only person that can make me come, Flip.”

“I know that.” The low rumble of his voice makes your cheeks grow warm. “But I’m asking if _he_ makes you come, I’m asking if he can fuck you just right, like I _know_ I can.”

You gulp. It wasn’t that your new guy was bad, no, that wasn’t it at all. It’s just that he wasn’t… _Flip_. Your body didn’t go into a frenzy when he touched you, he couldn’t make you tremble at the shear tone of his voice. The times you’d had lain together had been romantic, and you had felt _something_ , it just wasn’t the same. He didn’t fuck you silly, call you names, rough you up a little because he knew you could handle it. You’d told yourself, countless times, that it didn’t matter. He was nice, attractive, treated you well. The two of you weren’t serious yet, but you could be, in time. There would be time for him to learn how to touch you, how to love you, like you wanted. But there was a part of you that wondered whether that was just a lie you were telling yourself to keep the ball rolling.

“What does it matter to you anyway?”

He chuckles again at your avoidance, easing back into the chair now that he knows he has you right where he wants you. Well, _almost_. Where he wanted you was flat on your back with your pussy spread wide open for him. But for now, this was close enough.

“Well, I hate the thought of you not being satisfied… of that pretty little pussy getting pounded by somebody that’s not me. Somebody that doesn’t now how to touch you…” he trails off, his voice breathy on the other end of the line. “…somebody that can’t make you beg and scream to be fucked like you deserve.”

The sound of his breath through the phone is so clear he might as well have been stood right next to you, speaking those dirty words right into your ear. When had your cheeks grown so hot? Your skin so warm? You bite down on your lip, cross and uncross your legs just to _feel_ something. To give yourself something to focus on while you tried to collect your thoughts.

“So that’s what this is about, you don’t want anyone else to fuck me? Is that it?”

Though you try to masque it, try to pass it off as sheer frustration, he knows you’re trying to goad him. To tease him like you always do. And he’s happy to oblige. He rubs his fingers in circles against his goatee, licks his lips as he thinks about a response. _Was_ that was this was about? Was he simply just jealous that you had found someone else? Or was he just annoyed that you weren’t in the mood to satisfy him right now? He turns those questions over in his mind. His silence has your heart racing, desperate to know the answer.

“If you can find somebody who can fuck you better than I can, then you’re welcome to ‘em.”

“How do you know I haven’t already?”

He laughs, actually laughs, then. So loud that you actually pull the receiver away from you ear for a moment at the sound of it. He’s still chuckling when he speaks.

“Sweetheart if you had, you wouldn’t have answered the damn phone.”

A silence passes between the two of you as you realise the truth to his statement. No matter how much you hated it, he was right. He always fucking was. What mattered was whether you were going to indulge him any further. You thought about that for a moment, weighed up the options in your mind. In just a few minutes of talking over the phone, he’d managed to get you more worked up than your new guy had in near a month. That had to stand for something, surely?

But then there was the aftermath. There was _always_ the aftermath.

Sure, it felt good talking to him now, hearing his voice, his words, meant only for your ears. But whatever pleasure they brought would wear off tomorrow, when you were alone once more. When his interest in you had all but faded for the next whoever knows how long. A little late-night excitement wasn’t worth the sorrow that followed, not when you could get genuine affection somewhere else.

“Why do you need to call me anyway? Don’t you have other girls you can call for this sort of thing?”

Even though your words are meant to avert his attention, save you the hassle of turning him down directly, part of you hopes he’ll say no.

“C’mon kitten, no one gets me off like you do.” He pleads, his voice a little softer now. “I don’t want anyone who isn’t you, you know that.”

You bite your lip. Hearing those words from his mouth stirs something inside you. He’d been the best you’d ever had, you knew that much, but you’d never considered that he might feel the same. That his senses might have dulled to the touch of a woman who wasn’t you. All this time you’d thought that it was just you who was hung up on him, it hasn’t crossed your mind that he might have felt the same way. Still, you decide to push him further.

“I’m not sure I do know that,” you bite down on your lip, knowing you shouldn’t say the next words that come out of your mouth, but not finding the strength to stop them. “I think you should tell me just how much you want me.”

You hear him groan from the other end of the line, a low, deep sound that empties your mind of sane thought.

“You got me stiff in my jeans just thinkin’ about touchin’ you. And I’ve been thinkin’ about you a lot, the past few weeks… Been thinking about tasting that sweet pussy again… so wet for me, and how sexy you look with my cock in your mouth, _fuck_ …” He grunts, the only thing stopping him from fully working on himself, from unbuckling his jeans right there at his desk, is the thought you might still invite him over.

You screw your eyes shut, lean your head back against the wall, try to stop yourself from moaning at the thought of it. The memory of his tongue against your folds, his large hands rough against your tits, his moans lost in your skin is enough to have you reaching to your own panties, fingers gentle against the lace. His words have you soaking through the cotton.

“Got me wanting to jerk myself off right here at my desk just thinkin’ about it. Makes me fuckin’ sick that someone else is touchin’ you instead of me, makes me wanna come over there and show you just how good I can love you. I promise when I’m done with you, you won’t want anybody else.”

The anger in his tone shouldn’t turn you on, but it does, makes you wonder just how much he’s willing to prove it. Your mind is empty of logic as you answer, your words nothing more than a whisper fuelled only by want.

“Maybe you should.”

“That what you want, hm?” He grunts, the dominant side of him nearing to hear it directly from your lips. “You want me to come over there and fuck you like the little slut you are?”

You crumble. “Yes.”

It’s nothing more than a whisper from your lips as you finally admit it to yourself, to him.

“That’s my girl. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

He doesn’t wait to hear another word before he’s slamming down the receiver, grabbing his jacket and damn near running out into the parking lot. As a man of the law, he should know better than to speed toward your place, but he does it away. He knows you well enough to know that the longer he takes the get there, the more likely you are to talk yourself out of it, admit that what you’re doing is wrong.

And he’s right. _Again_.

By the time his knuckles are knocking against your door, you’re not even sure if you’re going to answer. You know you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have even answered the phone, shouldn’t have entertained this late-night game of cat and mouse. Sure, you could have left him waiting outside your door, ignored the urges and needs of your body and returned to your bed. But you knew if you did, you’d only regret it afterwards. It might have been tomorrow, it might have been the week after, but the regret would surely find you. As you lean forward to look at him through the peephole, you’re reminded exactly what it was you’d be missing.

His hands are in the back pockets of his jeans, his plaid shirt stretched tight across his broad chest, enough buttons undone that you can see the beginnings of his chest hair peeking through. He fidgets as he waits, looking down at his quickly tapping foot on your doorstep, before stretching an arm up to sweep his long dark locks from his face, his muscle thick beneath the denim of his jacket. You bite down on your lip as you watch him, taking in every detail you can in the moment. You’d almost forgotten how handsome he was, with his dark eyes and strong jaw, a well-kept moustache and goatee obscuring the bottom half of his face. His hair looks longer than the last time you saw it, and you can’t wait to run your hands through it, feel the softness of it against your fingertips.

Your heart is beating a million miles a minute as you clasp your hand around the handle, unlock the door to reveal him stood there in the night. The smirk across his face is so smug that it might have angered you if you weren’t so excited to see him. The cool night air seeps in through the doorway, makes you shiver under his gaze, your satin nightgown doing little to keep you warm. You watch as his eyes fall over your body slowly, hungrily. You feel your nipples press against the material, whether it’s the air, or the excitement of his presence, you’re not sure.

“Evening doll,” the sound of his voice steals the breath from your throat.

You step back as he lets himself in, closes the door behind him gently. There’s less than a foot between the two of you now, and you’re sure your heart is beating loud enough for him to hear it.

“Mmmm,” he moans, staring at you as his hand caresses your thigh, slides up your side where it rests on your lower back, pulling you close to him. “You know I love that nightgown.”

His hand slides underneath your chin, tilts your head up just enough that he can lean down to meet your lips. They’re soft against your own, gentle in a way you’ve never felt them before as they move against you. You open your mouth to him, feel his tongue caress your bottom lip before it meets your own. The taste of him is like ecstasy, makes your body come alive in a way you hadn’t felt since you’d seen him last. Only he could do this to you, make you feel such a way. Whatever part of you was holding back is gone as you knot your hands into his hair, press your body impossibly closer to him. You can feel him smiling beneath your lips, his hands finding a home underneath your ass as heaves you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his hips. You were grateful in that moment for his strength, how he could sweep you off your feet like it were nothing.

He doesn’t have to look as he walks you to your bedroom, confident in his route. He sets you down on the bed, his frame encompassing yours as he leans over you, smothers you with hot, open-mouthed kisses, your moans muffled against his mouth. His lips trail across your chin, your jaw, until he’s running his tongue along the line of your neck, nipping and kissing at your skin. You tug at his jacket, try to strip him of it hastily. He leans up and pulls the remainder of it off, tosses it to the side without caring so much as to see where it lands. You lean up to meet him, hands instantly reaching for his belt when he stops you with a firm hand.

“Slow down kitten, we’ve got all night.” He chuckles, taking your wrists in his hands and pinning them against the mattress.

You know better than to struggle against him, letting him have his way with you instead as he kisses along your jaw, his facial hair tickling your skin. His hands are large enough that he can hold both your wrists comfortably in one hand, freeing up his other hand to pull down the strap of your nightgown and expose your chest to him. You can feel his hot breath against your cheek as he palms at your breast, rolls your nipple between his fingers, smiling against your skin as your breath catches in your throat. He kisses his way down to your chest, and you watch as he first takes your nipple in his mouth, runs his tongue along it slowly. He doesn’t break eye contact as he moves between your breasts, licking, kissing, sucking, squeezing and burying his face between them until he gets the response he wants from you. Until you’re fidgeting beneath him, breath quick and skin hot.

His lips are still pressed to your skin as his hand wanders slowly down your body, fingers trailing against your ribs, your stomach, your hipbone. You open your legs wider for him as you sense where his hand is going, feel your excitement build at the thought of him inside you. He pulls back to watch your brows pull together above your eyes, your lips tremble as he runs the tip of his finger along your underwear, feels your excitement through the lace.

“Mmmm,” he groans low and long, finger trailing back up to find your clit through the material. “I knew I could still get this pussy wet, so fuckin’ wet for me.”

He touches you through your underwear, bites down on his lip as he watches the pleasure on your face. You can barely keep your eyes open, focusing on the feel of him against you as you tilt your hips up against his hand, needing to be closer to him.

“It’s all for you,” you tell him breathlessly, abandoning the façade now.

You wanted him to know just how much you wanted this, how much you needed it, needed _him_ , right now. You were sure you’d tell him anything in the state you were in. How it was him you thought of every time you touched yourself, his face plastered behind your eyes at the height of every orgasm. How you’d had to stop yourself from moaning his name the first few times with the new guy, his face never far from your mind when you found yourself worked up.

“You’re damn right it is,” he tells you as he peels off your underwear.

He smiles at the sight of your bare pussy in front of him, your legs wide and waiting for whatever he wanted to do to you. He mutters under his breath as he slides his first finger into you, feels your warmth around him. The first sensation of him inside you makes you sigh with pleasure, your muscles easing down against the mattress. You were sure you’d never meet another man as good as with his hands as he was.

“That feels so good… _fuck_ —” your moans are almost a shout as he begins rubbing small circles against your clit with his thumb, his face buried in your neck.

You’re rocking your hips against him now, aching and already desperate to finish. You’re close, you can feel it. He removes his hand from your wrists, uses it to pin your leg up against your chest, open up your pussy even wider for him as he starts to kiss down your body. You lift your head from the pillows in time to watch him lick the first stripe against your folds, drawing a high whine from your throat.

“Been waitin’ so long to taste this pussy,” he murmurs, dark eyes locked on yours as his tongue presses inside you.

You daren’t take your eyes off him as you watch him go to work on you, tongue sliding against your slick skin, tasting every drop of you. He moans against your folds at the sweet taste, the sensation making your thighs shake against him. He only pins you in place tighter as his tongue swirls around your clit, his fingers coming back down to slide inside you in unison. Your head falls back against the pillow, your chest heaving up and down as you feel your orgasm start to surface, the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening until—

“Flip, fuck, you’re gonna make me—”

The sensation bursts out of you, the feeling that was so deep inside your core now spreading all over your body, dulling your mind and curling your toes tight against the sheets. Its as if every inch of your skin is stimulated, and he keeps working at you right through it, until your tense muscles ease and go slack against the mattress, dizzy in the aftermath. Flip can tell, just from the look of sheer bliss on your face, that no one has made you come like that in a _while_. If he weren’t so worked up himself, so eager to get his fix, he might have laughed that he’d proved his point in a matter of minutes. But instead, he rises to a stand, begins to peel off his shirt, watches as you lie back on the bed, completely spent.

“Oh, I’m not finished with you yet.” He muses, tossing his shirt to the side.

His chest is large, wide and roped with muscle, his defined abs coated with a covering of jet-black hair that disappears beneath his waistband, beneath the belt he’s unbuckling. You weren’t sure you’d ever been into muscled men before him, but something about the way his clothes clung to his shape, the way the muscles in his torso flexed when he stretched did wonders for you. Just the sight of him shirtless has you rising to your knees, a sudden burst of energy running through you at the thought of what was about to happen next. He tugs his jeans down to his thighs slowly, the shape of his erection pressed firmly against the fabric of his boxers. You know better than to rush him, and so you wait for him to pull them down too, his hard-on springing into view, just inches from your face.

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of it. It went without saying that your new partner wasn’t as well-endowed, wasn’t equipped in the same way Flip was, though you could hardly blame him. His length alone was enough to make your eyes tear up from the way he filled you, like every single inch of you was made just for him. He jerks himself off slowly, watching the way your eyes are fixed on him as he does so. He places a hand under your chin, tilts it up so you’re forced to look at him, to peel your eyes away from his cock.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” His voice is breathy as he works on himself.

You nod against his hand, fingers on either side of your jaw, batting your lashes at him while you wait.

“Yes.”

He slides his hand from your chin to the nape of your neck where he takes a handful of your hair, balls it up in a fist so tight you can feel the pinch of it against your scalp.

“Open your mouth.” The order is nothing more than a growl from his lips.

You obey him, not taking your eyes off his as he edges towards you, the head of his cock brushing against the tip of your tongue. He lets out a moan, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he presses himself further into your mouth, feels your lips seal around him. You hold his gaze as you begin to suck at the head, swirl your tongue around him, bob your head up and down his shaft until you’re taking more and more of him into your mouth. He mutters under his breath as he watches his cock disappear between your thick lips, your pretty eyes and long lashes staring up at him as if butter wouldn’t melt.

“God, _fuck_ , it looks so good in your mouth,” he grunts, fisting his hand tighter into your hair. “You take my cock so fuckin’ well.”

The praise only spurs you on, because you _really_ want to impress him now. Want to show him just how good you could be for him. You take him fully into your mouth, until he’s so deep in the back of your throat there are tears forming in your eyes. He tips his head to the sky, his curses like music to your ears. But you don’t stop there. You work your hand around his base in a circular motion, suck at the head while your hand massages him. That really seems to get his attention, because he’s mumbling and rattling off curses so quick you’re not even sure what he’s saying.

“ _Fuuuuck_ kitten, just like that. Just for me—” he hisses, rocking his hips toward you, hearing the way your mouth squelches around him, the way you try not to gag on his length.

He keeps his eyes screwed shut, trying his hardest not to finish right there, not to empty himself into your mouth. He can feel his knees get weak beneath him, threaten to give out at the feel of your hot warmth against him. You loved to see him like that, all worked up in a state, all because of you. Knowing no one else could make him feel that way gave you a sense of pride, only made you want to wind him up more. But he pulls him away from you by your hair before you can, tilts your head back so you have to look at him, a thread of saliva still connecting you to the head of his cock.

“Why don’t you lie back there and let me show you just how much I’ve missed you?”

You scramble back up the bed, pull your nightgown fully over your head so that you can lie naked in front of him. You prop yourself up on your elbows, spread your legs wide and watch how his eyes instantly fall to your pussy, how his tongue runs across his lips at the sight of you like that. He tugs his jeans and boxers the remainder of the way down his legs slowly, knowing your eyes are on him, admiring him. His frame dwarfs you as he positions himself above you, his hips between your legs. The two of you moan in unison as he runs the head of his cock along your slick folds, teases it along your entrance. You angle your hips up for him, try to slide him inside you, satisfy the burning need in your core.

“P—please,” you’re practically trembling with anticipation as you beg. “I need you.”

Maybe if he weren’t so worked up, he’d make you beg some more, hear your sweet cries for him, but right now he can’t wait another second. The moment he presses inside you and feels you clench around his shaft is like heaven. You’re warm and wet and _tight_ , everything he loves, and he can only sigh at the feel of you, his long, drawn-out breath warm against your neck. All the waiting, all the bickering, all the guilt you were surely going to feel tomorrow morning, was worth it for the feel of him inside you. It feels like an eternity until his hips meet yours, until he’s fully submerged in your warmth, your bodies entwined in the most intimate of ways.

“ _God_ you’re so fucking tight—” he hisses, placing a hand on your hip as he withdraws from you, only to press into you again, harder this time, so a cry escapes from your lips. “Tight little pussy just for me.”

He patters kisses along your neck, your jaw, licks into your mouth as he works up a rhythm, hips rocking into yours with building pace. You submit to him fully, letting him do as he pleases with you, because _god_ , does it feel good. You’re grateful for the kisses he presses against your mouth, the way he uses his hand to press your face impossibly closer to him, because at least it muffles the constant stream of moans from your mouth. A muddle of curses, breaths and mentions of his name, over and over like a broken record. And he loves it, you can tell. The way he fucks into you, almost furiously now, so much that you can hear the headboard banging against the wall, drowning out the sounds the two of you were making.

“Bet he never fucked you like this, huh?” Flip grunts, leaning back to watch your face, the way your brows pull together, hair fanned out around you on the pillows.

You shake your head, unable to do anything more in the moment, your mind filled only with pleasure.

“Answer me,” he demands, planting a sharp slap across your cheek.

The sweet sting of it is hot against your skin, and you smile at the sensation. You’d almost forgotten what that felt like, how it was to have a lover who could truly push you to your limits.

“No! Only you baby.”

“That’s right.” He fucks into you harder as if to justify his point, his hands firm on your hips as he ruts into them.

You look gorgeous, lying there and taking him like that, the pillow princess that you are. He palms at your tits as they bounce with the motion of his thrusts, the whole bed seeming to shake with the power of his hips. The small gold chain around his neck dangles down above you as he leans over you, it’s small star pendant slapping against your chin.

“Every time you touch yourself, I want you to think of me,” he grunts breathlessly, “of how fuckin’ good I make you feel, of how deep I am in this pussy.”

The sound of his gruff voice and the pounding of your hips has you panting, gasping for breath as you feel the knot in your stomach growing tight again, your orgasm not far off now. Maybe if you were in a clearer state of mind, you’d tell him you already thought of him that way.

“ _Yesyesyes_!” You pant. “Fuck, I’m so close, I—”

“You don’t come until I tell you to, understand?” He grips your jaw, forces you to look him in the eye as he speaks.

You nod, knowing you’d only be in for a punishment if you didn’t do as he said. Not that you’d mind, of course. You were willing to let him do whatever he wanted with you for as long as he wanted it. He’s damn-near red in the face with the exertion of fucking you. The sweat beginning to cause his dark locks to stick to his forehead, making his chest glisten in the dim light of your room. His muscles flex in his arm as he grips you, veins thick against his pale skin as he holds you in place. The sheer sight of him like that would be enough to steal the breath from your throat – if you had any left. You try to save that image of him in your mind, store it for when he undoubtedly left you again.

“Please Flip, please I…” you’re pleading now.

It was cruel of him to tease you like that, to know you were so close and keep fucking you at the pace he was, thrusting into you so deep you wondered how he didn’t rupture something.

“You want to come? Is that it?”

There are tears in your eyes as you nod, because you’re sure you might burst, might explode all over him if he doesn’t say yes, doesn’t give you permission to succumb to the pleasure. His hips slow as he drags his cock in and out of you at an aching pace, makes you feel every inch of his length. If it were anyone other than him, you’d be embarrassed at the noises coming from your pussy, how it squelches around him, paints him with your juices. But you can see that he’s smiling, enjoying the way you’re writhing beneath him, hanging on his every word. He pulls his cock all the way out of you then, and somehow that’s _worse_ , leaves you feeling empty in his absence.

“Promise me you won’t fuck that other guy ever again.” He demands.

He knows exactly what he’s doing as he says the words, know you’ll agree to anything he says if it means you get to finish, but there’s part of him that wants you to bite back. To say something other than yes, just so he can punish you. He watches as you smile, try to keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth like you know they inevitably will. But you wanted to fight them, so you bite down on your lip, watch as he eyes you eagerly, dark eyes searching your expression.

“Don’t make me tease it out of you,” he warns, trailing a finger along your folds, grazing it against your clit for just a second, making you yelp.

You can see the hint of growing desperation in his stare. Not just to touch you, but to know if you really would promise that. It’s that pleading look that lets you know you had some leverage here too, gives you the confidence to push him.

“Only if _you_ promise to stick around.”

He raises his dark eyebrows at you, does his infamous half-smirk that’s riddled with smugness before he leans down over you, so close his lips are brushing against yours as he says:

“Looks like we got ourselves a deal.”

His lips press to yours roughly, his moustache tickling your lips as his tongue presses against your own. He rolls you over onto your side, never breaking the kiss as he slides himself down behind you, raises your leg up in the air with his hand. You press yourself back up against him, hear him grunt as he lines himself up with you, the first feel of him back inside you making you whimper.

“ _Fuuuuck_ ,” he moans, low and breathy.

He curses under his breath as he begins to rut into you, his lips buried in your neck, one hand on your hip, the other reaching under you to clutch at your tits. He always loved to have you like that, to cradle you while he fucked you, whisper all the dirty things he was thinking right into your ear. And it works just as well now as it did before, your toes curling as you try and hold on to the sensation building in your core. He feels impossibly deeper inside you from this angle, his balls against you with each thrust. You can feel his hot breath as he works you back up towards your orgasm, the sweat on his chest sticking the two of you together. Every word from his mouth is amplified in your ears, and you can tell he must be close to finishing too from the way he rambles, rattling off every word that comes to mind.

“This pussy’s all mine… feels so good— _shit_ ,”

His hips are increasing pace now, the sound of your ass slapping against him and ragged breaths filling the room. Your face is half-buried in the pillow, moans muffled as he nips at your neck, bites down on the skin in an attempt to hold off his own orgasm a little longer. Though he can feel you clenching and tightening around him, your own finish not far off now.

“Fuck,” he’s panting now .“I want you to come all over my cock… mph— _please_ kitten, come for me.”

You’d never heard him beg like that. Beg for _you_. You were always the one pleading, begging, crying for _him_ to give you what you wanted. You wish you could tease him, make him beg some more but the feel of him pounding you is too much, his hips going into overdrive now that he’s given you the permission to finish. You clutch desperately at his thigh, feel the muscles beneath your fingertips as your eyes screw shut, clenching around him. You can feel him twitching inside you, hear his grunts getting louder, a little more exasperated, his thrusts erratic. The knot in your stomach is so tight, so _close_ , and you whine as you feel your orgasm finally surfacing, spreading out across your entire body.

Your thighs are trembling, your moans cutting off into silence as he fucks you furiously through your orgasm, each pound of his hips against yours amplifying the sensation. You feel it in your toes, your fingers, the pit of your stomach, every inch of your body on fire as he loves you. He’s only a moment or two behind, a garbled moan spilling from his mouth as you feel his warmth of his come gush inside you. His thrusts slow as he lets his head fall against your shoulder, his chest heaving out of sync with yours as you lie there, overcome with the bliss of it all.

Only when you’re both splayed out on your backs, pulse no longer hammering in your ears and your breaths just beginning to stabilise, does he start to speak. If you’re being honest, you’re grateful for the interruption, it’s stops your mind from spiralling into regret too quickly. From overthinking whether he’d really meant what he’d said, or whether it was just something he’d agreed to in a sex-induced haze.

“You know I really did miss you… while I was away, I mean.” He sounds unsure as he speaks, the confidence of his love-making tone all but gone now.

He turns to face you then, his eyes regarding you with a soft affection. There’s a prominent flush to his cheeks, his sweat-slicked hair still clinging to his forehead, his lips plump and full. You turn over so you’re lying on your front, seeing the way his eyes fall to your chest as you do, the way he smooths a hand over your lower back, fingers spanning down onto your ass. Your eyes narrow as you stare, interrogating him without saying a single word.

“Look I know I haven’t been the best but… workin’ that case and not being able to see you, really made me think… how much you mean to me. And… I’m ready to put the work in to prove it. If you let me.” His fingers trace circles in your skin.

You choose not to say anything, opting to wait and see if he says any more instead, enjoying the power you had over him.

“I was thinkin’ I could take you out for dinner tomorrow, maybe catch a movie?” His fingers trace small circles on your back, trailing down onto your ass and making you twitch. “That is… if your boyfriend doesn’t mind.”

The cheekiness of his tone makes you laugh, and his mouth pulls into a smile too, eyes still watching you, taking in your beauty.

“Boyfriend?” You feign surprise. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chuckles. “That’s my girl.”


End file.
